Schizophrenia
by hairspray.and.dog.tags
Summary: Just a little English selfcest for Arthur fans  BEWARE: personified countries  country? , human names, blasts from the past, and mindfucking with England  :


A hollowed scream shattered the night, cracks spreading across the pale moon like cobwebs as the stars fell from the sky, drowning the world in ink; it only took a moment for him to realize that it was his own throat that had brought such a horrid thing to life — for him to think: How pathetic can I truly get before the night's over?

"Wow," a voice drawled sarcastically.

Arthur froze for a moment, but reclaimed his self quickly by pulling the knife out from under his pillow and shooting up from his sweaty sheets in a heartbeat only to come face-to-face with a pair of familiar — too familiar — green eyes, and the (also familiar) feel of steel pressed against his Adam's apple. War habits immediately took over, although he knew it probably wasn't the smartest idea to revert back to those certain instincts. Rolling to the side, he tumbled off of the bed in a deft manner and held the knife up, as if it could've warded off Hell — and in his mind, it very well could; for if he didn't have that state of mind, it wouldn't even ward off France (or Paris Hilton for that matter.)

But it wasn't enough.

Hands smacked the knife out of his fingers before he could even blink, and the steel was up against his throat again...but not for too long. It seemed to only be a warning: _If you try something like that again, I won't hesitate to behead you. _The sword lowered after a long moment, choosing to stare at the ground. And then Arthur looked.

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me…"

"Afraid not, addled Artie!"

No, of course not.

Had he not been wearing those outlandish clothes, Arthur would've thought that he had been standing in front of a mirror and not a pirate, and certainly not _himself as a pirate_. The only real difference between the two Englishmen was that one was still dressed in his pyjama pants and the other was dressed in some strange concoction of an outfit: a ruffled, white dress shirt; a pair of tight — _oh fuck _— black leather pants, some rather intimidating boots; that ever beautiful red coat, lined with black trim and brass buttons; and of course, that damned feather hat — oh, bullocks, it was all torn and singed and everything (battle scars, naturally.)

Given the circumstances, he quickly accepted that he must've still been dreaming; rolled his eyes, and decided to put the old saying "Grin and bear it" to the test.

"You're here to impose some sort of guilt on me then?" asked Arthur mockingly.

Captain Kirkland grinned a nasty smirk. "Not quite."

The first thing Arthur's mind grasped onto was the sword hitting the floor, though God knows he should have been more focused on other things — such as getting thrown back on his bed with a vicious pirate on him. He kicked his legs frantically for a moment before timing a well-aimed punch which knocked the captain to his side—just enough freedom for Arthur to take control of the situation. Within seconds, he had the pirate pinned to the mattress with the dagger that he miraculously hadn't dropped pressed to his jugular and a nasty glare on his own face.

"Just what the bloody hell do you think you're doing?" asked he venomously.

"Use yer deadlights, matey!" sneered Captain Kirkland.

"Are you trying to fucking rape me?"

Kirkland gave him a lewd look.

Oh—well…he hadn't expected _that_.

"Bloody hell. Honestly?"

The pirate threw his head back and laughed heartedly despite the knife digging into his skin. He looked back at Arthur and said, "Gangway! If ye don't mind, I have a problem that needs to be dealt with handsomely!" A pause. "In me trousers!"

Oh, how original. Arthur rolled his eyes. "Can't you bother someone else? I'm trying to sleep, if you hadn't noticed."

"Not anymore ye aren't!"

Obviously.

Before Arthur had the dignity to reply to the pirate, Kirkland abruptly shoved his hand down his pyjama pants. Arthur halfway stifled his groan before pressing the knife harder against the man's throat. Kirkland paid no mind to the threat and began stroking the other, slowly—oh so slowly, and _oh God_—!

I'm in a dream, Arthur reasoned with himself briefly (hey, in his defense, he'd had strenuous amounts of alcohol the night before _and_ he hadn't been laid since…well, since France had somehow snuck his way into his bathroom cabinet) before tossing the knife aside and all but devouring the pirate's mouth, hands grasping the other's face so as to keep him from moving away, although both knew he wouldn't.

Arthur swallowed Kirkland's moan, groaning himself when the captain removed his hand from his pants and wrapped his arms around the Briton's waist, pulling him down to grind his hips up into that delicious mind-blowing _heat_—

"Oh!" yelped Arthur, vision flickering white for a long second. Kirkland smirked and removed one of his arms to pull the other back down into the kiss, continuing his thrusts and moaning quite extravagantly when Arthur joined him.

"Pussy," mumbled Arthur humorously into the pirate's mouth.

Kirkland only groaned softly, releasing the other man from the lip-lock in order to flip them over, taking his [rightful] position over Arthur before claiming his mouth again. Not a minute later, the pirate ceased his hips' erratic behavior (to which Arthur growled rather sexily, but it was entirely frustrated, he and I both swear) in favor of nipping at the other's jaw and sensually rubbing his fingers down Arthur's neck, over his collarbone, circling a nipple, and going lower yet—

And suddenly, he was on his back. Arthur gave him a glare caught between frustration and lust before ripping Kirkland's hat off and burying his hands in the other man's dirty hair, diving down to suck at his Adam's apple, eliciting a bright moan from the pirate. After making sure he'd left an intimidating hicky on Kirkland's neck, Arthur kissed the pirate's collarbone chastely before he thrust his hips harshly down into Kirkland's.

"Begad! Arthur!" moaned Kirkland.

Arthur smirked. "That's what I like to hear."

"Ye ole scallywag."

"I honestly can't take you seriously when you speak like that," sneered Arthur.

"Belay that talk!"

Arthur snorted, but did as told and shut his mouth, instead choosing to do something else with it. He kissed and nipped his way down the pirate's scarred skin, carefully tearing Kirkland's clothes off as he encountered them. After neglecting Kirkland's naval with his tongue, Arthur pulled the man's trousers down, revealing a sorely throbbing erection.

"Me turn!"

Kirkland flipped them over, kicked his trousers off after a long moment of comical struggling, and then set about removing Arthur's pyjamas, laying soft, hot kisses upon every new stretch of skin that was presented to him. Arthur laced his fingers in the pirate's hair, almost lovingly, as an afterthought as his teenaged self went down on him.

"Ye want this?" sneered Kirkland, hands dangerously close to Arthur's—_ahem_. "Yeah?"

Arthur rolled his eyes. He didn't know how he managed to not throw himself off board back then, what with that horrid accent, mangled words, and dear lord, how much of a fucking tease he was…! But then again, one doesn't normally find himself annoying because he teases himself…

And then he remembered where he was and who was in his pants. Or, rather, who was _not_ in his pants. With a grunt, he used his often underestimated strength and yanked the pirate's head down, mumbling something along the lines of "Just get to it, you fucking bilge rat" (and then realizing that his teen years' speech was catching up to him.)

Kirkland bleeding smirked (Arthur could feel it around his cock) and took the whole damned thing into his mouth, forcing a stifled groan out of the Briton. Arthur swatted the back of his head, not particularly enjoying the sudden and naïve _thing_ around his vital regions, but then Kirkland showed just how skilled he could be, and grabbed the base of Arthur's cock gently with one hand and eased his mouth back around the head—and abruptly sucked hard enough to evoke a premature orgasm, but thank god Arthur wasn't turned on enough for that.

The pirate then moved his hand back to fondle the other man's balls almost carefully (and rightfully so; those were precious family jewels he was dealing with). He bobbed his head back and forth, taking in a bit more every time, until as last his nose was buried in Arthur's downy pubic hair and his lips were up to the hilt of Arthur's very well endowed packaging. His tongue wrapped skillfully around it, warmly stroking the vein underneath while one hand stabilized itself on Arthur's inner thigh, the other keeping Arthur's legs apart (although he wasn't exactly trying to keep them together).

Arthur gasped and tugged harshly on the pirate's hair, bucking up into his mouth. He felt his balls tighten and warmth coil in his stomach, but just before he released Kirkland tightly grasped the base of his cock, cutting off the orgasm and evoking a frustrated, hellish _whine_ from Arthur's plump, red-from-biting lips.

"Apol'gies, love," snickered Kirkland. Arthur promptly _swack_ed him upside the head and forcefully tackled the buccaneer onto his back, logic becoming hazy in his delayed lust and pleasure, and—

_THUD_

"…Did we just fall off the bed?"

The conqueror of the seven seas laughed heartily. "Ye be beastly in th' sheets!"

Arthur snarled harshly at being laughed at, but quickly silenced the boisterous laughter by capturing Kirkland's lips and propping himself upright so that their crotches rubbed against each other. He bit at the pirate's moan, silencing the teenager as he grinded their hips together, almost agonizingly slow—

But Arthur wasn't fucking around. Not even a minute into dry humping the hell out of his teenage-self, he quit and set his mind to getting the orgasm he very much deserved, _if only the bloody pirate hadn't—well…_pirated_ it…_

"If you so much as _move_, I'm going to _kill_ you with this sodding knife," he threatened Kirkland after miraculously finding the discarded weapon by his foot.

Kirkland only gave him a rebellious look, one that said he'd comply for now, but he probably wouldn't soon. But for Arthur, it was enough.

He pushed Kirkland's legs apart, met by little to none resistance, and decided to take the more romantic route; he put two fingers to the pirate's lips, eyeing him warily—watching for any signs that the pirate may be difficult and bite him. Kirkland only opened his mouth and took those fingers into that hot, wet heat. Arthur groaned a little, glad that he wasn't confined by his trousers, and watched as the pirate swirled his tongue between and around his fingers, wetting them down efficiently and sucking on them just to tease the Brit, _the bloody fucking bastard_…

Arthur pulled his hand away with a feral growl and gently pushed at Kirkland's entrance, just teasing the sensitive skin until the pirate growled (just as feral) and pushed down, impaling himself on Arthur's finger. Arthur smirked and swirled his finger around, pushing on the inner walls a little less than gently just to irk the teenager (and he was doing well, if the uncomfortable expressions on the boy's face were anything to go by). And then he pushed in the second finger, tenderly, but not overly so, scissoring him, stretching the muscles, bringing an array of looks to Kirkland's face, until he deemed the third finger appropriate and stuck that in as well.

"Arthur…"

He looked up and saw a manly blush all over the pirate's face, as if someone had taken the liberty to spill red ink on his rough face. Arthur smirked and removed his fingers, lining his erection up with the pirate's wet, stretched entrance. He licked his lips, and then clamped his lips down on Kirkland's, silencing the groan that bubbled into his mouth as he pushed in to the hilt.

He realized that he didn't really feel like being gentle with the criminal. He immediately started thrusting, hard and rough, until he could have swore that there was blood mingled in the mix of spit and pre-cum down below.

And then Kirkland's cooperation ran thin. Relying on the strength (that wasn't so much underestimated as it was flaunted, unlike Arthur's) he had, he quickly pushed Arthur onto his back and straddled him, somehow managing to keep with the pace. He set his hands on Arthur's chest to steady him as he fucked himself on Arthur's dick, pushing himself up with the bounce of his heels, and letting himself drop down onto Arthur's upward thrusts.

Arthur bit back his moans and groans as he thrust up in time with Kirkland's bouncing frenzy, trying hard to keep his eyes open so he could keep watching the pirate's emotions dance and frazzle on his face.

Kirkland's dirty hair kept doing this strange bouncy thing that mimicked his body and most certainly did not help Arthur's current problem (or, rather, solution). His thick eyebrows were drawn together and his normally vigilant green eyes were clenched shut in the pleasure he felt. His lips were pulled back, revealing strangely white and well kempt teeth; almost like a snarl…

Arthur was entranced.

Kirkland suddenly stopped moving, freezing up so badly as Arthur wondered briefly if he'd accidentally killed him somehow, but then he realized that the pirate had only hit his prostrate, for he continued riding Arthur, although a great deal more frenzied and wild.

But he couldn't keep going so hard for so long. After a long moment, Arthur realized that, as Kirkland began to simmer down, and quickly switched the positions so that the pirate was pressed up against the bed on his knees. Arthur wrapped his arms under Kirkland's thighs and pulled them clear off of the floor, so the only thing keeping Kirkland from falling flat on his face was his death grip on the bed. And then Arthur started fucking him again.

Harder, harder, faster, deeper, faster—

It seemed that neither could really make up their mind, as they were constantly changing (or begging, in Kirkland's case) the way they received the pleasure. And then Arthur found a lovely way to satisfy all three commands by getting a bit of leverage from getting onto his toes.

With a _heave!_ and a _ho!_ Kirkland came hard and messily all over Arthur's sheets, tightening and shaking helplessly around the Brit's frantic dick, and then Arthur's came, mostly silent except for the loud and muffled grunt he released into the pirate's back.

Arthur found that he couldn't honestly remember much aside from getting up and getting back into bed to catch up on his missed sleep. He was very content with leaving Kirkland on the floor apparently, otherwise he never would have gone to sleep.

The next morning, Arthur woke up and let out a long, very British yawn. With a mumble and a grumble and possibly even a fumble, he sat up and looked about the room, pausing on the pirate hat hung on the bedroom doorknob.

He promptly fainted.

**FIN.**

**A/N: First smut, ahoy~ **

**So, enjoy. Hopefully I didn't botch this too terribly. APOLOGIES FOR ANY SCREW UPS. And thank you for reading.  
**


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